


Jealous Beast

by AntiMaterielGirl



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Alcohol, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jealousy, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntiMaterielGirl/pseuds/AntiMaterielGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She likes to make him jealous - it's more fun that way.<br/>Rated Explicit, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealous Beast

 

“Touch her again, asshole, and you’re gonna draw back a bloody stump.” He snatches the man’s hand in mid-air, just as it grabs her ass. She glances back at him, bites her lower lip, tosses her long auburn hair. He’s calm, almost placid, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He squeezes his hand for emphasis before letting go, and the man whimpers in pain.

For him, violence is a casual affair – it’s both his business and his pleasure. Plus, it turns her on something fierce.  She provokes these men on purpose, using her beauty as a weapon, just to see them fight over her. Every now and then, she gets to watch him beat someone to a pulp when they attempt to collect their prize. She belongs to him.

She’d ordered him not to use weapons in the bar unless someone looked like they were gonna draw down on him, but he doesn’t mind it much. He’s as good at hand-to-hand as he is with his shotgun, and he doesn’t mind a little hands-on work to get the blood pumping every now and then.

She walks up to a young guy, good looking, and starts to flirt with him. Charon feels a momentary flash of anger – this smoothskin, this _kid_ …they look good together, almost as if they belong together. Dimly, he realizes that this is part of her game. She likes to find the pretty ones, to flirt with them, to provoke him into marring their beauty with his tattered fists. She belongs to him.

She laughs, full and throaty. He takes a sip of beer and waits; waits for the inevitable. Drunk, the kid grabs her breast and she squeals. _That’s my cue._ “Hands off her, pal.”

“Oh yeah, shuffler? Whatcha gonna do about it?”

He rises from the barstool, which effectively hid his impressive height. “I’m gonna stop ya.” She licks her lips and stares at the kid, drinking in his fear. It’s intense – he’s realized, through a haze of alcohol, that he’s just challenged the biggest ghoul he’s ever seen. There is no way to win this fight – back down, and he’ll lose face; go toe-to-toe, and he’ll get pounded mercilessly. She knows it’s a fifty-fifty shot – some decide that discretion is the better part of valor and head for the door, while others would rather risk death than having their reputation ruined. She’s betting that since he’s young and stupid, he’s one of the latter. Besides, his two buddies might jump in, and they’ll get a three-for-one!

His face fixes in a mask of bravery as he squares his shoulders. “Make me.”

She smiles wickedly as he strides up to the ghoul. Everyone in the bar is frozen, watchful. Charon cracks his massive knuckles, and the kid takes the opportunity for a free swing, letting fly a hillbilly haymaker to his opponent’s solar plexus. Almost lazily, Charon grabs the boy’s fist and twists it savagely, while at the same time landing a solid punch to the kid’s face. Blood pours out the kid’s nose, and he screeches, lunges at him, punching wildly, landing a few ineffective blows to Charon’s abdomen.

He knew from the beginning that this kid was no match for him. Eventually, he might find someone worthy of his skill, but that will not be tonight. He shoves the kid back, parting them, and lands another solid punch, this time to the kid's chest, effectively knocking the wind out of him. “Do you wanna give up now?” he asks, with a smirk. He wants to give Eve a nice show – she likes it when they get desperate, when he toys with them a little for her amusement. The kid is staggering now, struggling to stay on his feet.

He allows the kid to bend over, take a rest, and catch his breath.  Then a knife flashes, and the kid flings himself at his adversary’s chest. Charon catches him by the wrist and squeezes until the kid drops the knife into his open palm. “That’s not fair, son…bringing a knife to a fistfight.” He looks at Eve, at her eager eyes. She nods as if to say, _he drew on you, feel free._ He pushes the kid against the wall in full view of his Evie, pins him there with a massive forearm, and touches the tip of the knife to his broken, bleeding nose. He can feel the kid’s fear, his terror. There’s murmurs in the room – everyone saw the kid bring out the knife, so they’re reluctant to step in.

“Do you wanna give up now?” he repeats. “Or do I have to take a souvenir?”  He takes the knife and traces the edge of the kid’s ear with the tip. He can feel the kid shiver as he whimpers pathetically.

“Yesth” he slurs. “Yesth, I giff up!” Charon eases him down almost gently and steps back. Cradling his right arm the kid shuffles to avoid him when Charon flips the blade and offers it to him, hilt-first. As the kid takes the knife, Charon cuffs him roughly on the side of the head, causing him to lose his balance, fall into a table, and tumble to the floor.

“And that’s for bein’ stupid.” He lifts his chin and raises his gravelly voice, looks around the room. “Anyone else?” For a few seconds, the silence is deafening. “C’mon Eve. Let’s go home.” She meets his milky eyes and complies, heading out the door. He stops at the bar, chugs the rest of his beer and tosses Gob a few caps. “Sorry for the mess.” In all honesty, Gob doesn’t mind having Charon around – the guy does head off trouble from time to time by his very presence, even if his employer likes to play games with the patrons. Plus, it’s nice to have another ghoul around, even if they’ve never seen eye to eye.

She’s paused outside to light a cigarette and wait for him. “Ready?” she asks. He grunts in reply, and she heads down the ramp towards home. As he follows, he notices that she’s swaying her hips back and forth exaggeratedly – a sign that she’s already hot and bothered. For the umpteenth time, he wishes that he doesn’t look like he does, so he could grab her luscious ass in public and squeeze it. _There will be plenty of time for that momentarily,_ he thinks. “Nice show,” she says. “For a second there, I thought you were gonna kill ‘em. Even Simms would’ve said that you were well within your rights.” She takes a last drag off her cigarette, then tosses it in a coffee can filled with sand near the front door. She touches the doorknob, savoring his anticipation. “Do you know how fuckin’ horny I am right now?”

He groans softly through clenched teeth. _Yes. Yes he does._

She unlocks the door, swings it wide and strides in. He follows her, closing and locking the door behind them, as per his routine. He hears her boots hit the floor with a dull thud, and when he turns around, she’s right _there,_ staring up at him, biting her lower lip, which never fails to drive him wild. She grabs his t-shirt and pulls him down and toward her, kisses him hard. He runs his fingers through her hair, reaches down to an ample ass cheek and squeezes it.  She pulls away from him and smiles, licks her lips. This is the moment when she decides how it’s gonna be. She’s a loaded gun, unpredictable, exhilarating. “I love it when you’re a beast,“ she coos. “I love it when you hurt people for me.”

He growls. “You belong to _me_.”

“Oh, my jealous monster. Did I make you…angry?” Her hand slides southward, rubs the tight bulge in the crotch of his pants. There’s a rumble deep inside his throat.  She smiles and shivers. He grabs a handful of her thick, lustrous hair and pulls her head back.

“You want a beast?” he asks, whispering in her ear.

“Oh, yes…” she gasps.

“Then I will give you one.” He nips at her neck, and she yips in surprise. He tears her shirt off, exposing her bare breasts. He kneads one roughly. It has to be painful, but she doesn’t fight him – well, she squirms a little, whimpers, but makes no real effort to stop him. Bare to the waist, he studies her with his hands – warm, soft, compliant… _his_.

He yanks at the button of her trousers, and they fall to the floor. _No panties…dirty girl._ As she steps out of them, he spins her around and bends her over the back of a chair. With two swift, practiced tugs, his trousers fall to the floor, and before she can turn around, he’s inside her, thrusting vigorously.  Her body shakes as she moans loudly, pushing back against him. With an evil grin, he rakes his nails down her back, eliciting a shrill cry of pleasure from her.  Long, red welts appear from her shoulders to her waist. He watches with amusement as her hands scrabble for purchase on the upholstery. On impulse he leans forward, snatches a great handful of her hair and pulls her head back. “Oh, yes!” she shrieks and tightens around him. _Oh, you like that, huh?_ He smacks her lovely ass, as hard as he dares. She shouts and squeezes him tightly. _Ah, right there._ Looking down, he savors the view of him thrusting into her – the beast despoiling the beauty. The little house is filled with the sounds of their coupling - his bestial grunt punctuating each thrust, her almost continuous cries of pleasure, the brutal whack of his coarse hand on her soft bottom, the creak of the old chair as it protests the uneven weight.

A deafening wail pierces the room, and she stiffens, squeezing him violently. Her warm, moist, rhythmic contractions push him over the edge, and he looses himself inside her with a last hard, vicious thrust of his hips. He releases her hair, allowing her head to fall limply forward. Her skin is beaded with sweat, the welts on her back and her abused ass cheek glow a bright pink, in contrast to her pale skin. She gasps as he slides out of her, and she droops over the chair, breathing heavily. He stoops, snatches a t-shirt, wipes himself off, then tosses it away. After sliding his trousers up over his hips he buttons them, restraining himself from giving her ass a last satisfyingly heavy slap. He strides over to the kitchen, snags a beer, and then tosses a washrag at her after popping off the cap. “Best clean up before you have to mop it up.”

She can feel the lazy trickle down the inside of her thigh, and she chuckles. On rubbery legs, she manages to complete the task, and then drapes herself across the arms of the chair, gingerly lowering her aching bottom. “Did you have to smack my ass so hard? I’m gonna be sore for a week,” she complains, half-heartedly.

“I was simply giving you what you wanted.”

She hangs her head back and closes her eyes. “Mmm…you _beast_ ,” she murmurs, savoring the dull throb inside of her.

He takes a sip of his beer, and smirks at her. “If it’s a beast my mistress wants, it’s a beast she shall have.”


End file.
